


Be Bold (But Not Too Bold)

by KaelsMiscellany



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: . . .kind of, Gen, Look ma! I can do cannon compliant, Post Ruin and Rising, Reincarnation?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dark haired boy runs wildly through the fallow field, the last of the summer flowers clutched tightly in his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Bold (But Not Too Bold)

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started as only the first scene and was pretty vague as to whether it was Alina and her son or Baghra and the Darkling, but then that changed and I just went with Alina. This may or may not have a second part, depending on whether or not I can actually pin it down and write it.
> 
> The title comes from the English fairy tale Mr. Fox (basically a blue beard variation) and the story Alina begins to tell is the Ravkan version of it.

The dark haired boy runs wildly through the fallow field, the last of the summer flowers clutched tightly in his hand. When he reaches the kitchen door of the almost mansion he's always called home he stops and takes a few deep breaths. Feeling suitably calm and mature now he hides the flowers behind his back and enters. “Mama I have something for you.”

She looks up from the dough she's kneeding, blowing a few strands of her white hair out of her face, crow's feet crinkling slightly as she gives a faint smile. “I hope whatever it is didn't get you into too much trouble Aleksander.”

He frowns a little at her tone, unsure whether she wants him to _be_ in trouble or not. He knows she worries over his lack of friends among the orphans that live in the warren of halls with them. But he prefers the woods and books to people. “No mama, I was just out wandering in the woods.”

She goes back to kneeding as she clucks her tongue. “Careful, or they'll gobble you right up, then where would I be?”

A huff escapes him. “That's only at Duva mama. And don't you want to know what I found you?”

She laughs, a sound that makes him swell with pride, mama doesn't laugh all that often since papa died. “Alright, alright you little tyrant. What did you find me?”

He grins and pulls out the flowers, they're a little wilted, but he thinks they should be fine once they're in water.

“They're beautiful Aleksander.” Her smile returns, a little brighter than before, though her eyes are distant. “Could you put them in a pitcher for me, and set them on the sill? I need to finish up the pastries.”

He nods and heads over to the small pantry. He's tall enough now that he doesn't need help or the stool to reach the higher shelves, and easily grabs the nicest of the pitchers. Putting the flowers in he passes his mother on his way to the sink; she brushes a kiss against his cheek as he does so. “You're a good boy.”

He beams; letting the sink water run for a few moments to clear. The flowers, once they're on the sill, look nice, covering the field and reaching out for the sky and fresh air like starving people. Once he's arranged them just so he trots back over to his mother and sits on the stool, legs swinging expectantly.

When she sees this she huffs, he barely remembers papa saying they got annoyed in the same way, and rolls her eyes. “A new story or an old one tyrant?”

New stories are always exciting, but he also loves the way his mother tells his favorites: the way she pauses at just the right times, the way her hands move the closer they get to the climax. No one tells stories like she does. Either way it's a tough choice, once he gives the time it deserves. “A new one,” he decides. Maybe he can convince her to tell the too-clever fox tonight at storytime.

She begins splitting the dough and shaping the smaller pieces into almost-loaves, and he watches her faintly wrinkled hands as she goes through familiar motions.

“Darya was beautiful, and she was young. The former gave her so may suitors that you could count for a day and still not get them all. The latter meant her two brothers, the only family she had left since war took her father and sorrow her mother, watched carefully, tossing men out at the slightest hint their Darya didn't like them.

“Now there was among them a man, a Grisha some said though if it were so no one had ever seen him practice his Science, named Lisa and not much was known about him. Except that he was handsome, and gracious enough that even Darya's brothers liked him. Lisa told all who would listen that he had a castle on the other side of the hill, and others had confirmed it, but he had never invited anyone to visit, not even Darya. Now one day when her brothers were out hunting and Lisa was away on business she got curious. . .”

\---

The next day brings upheaval to their usual schedule. A Grisha examiner comes to the house and all the children of the right age are gathered up for testing. He's old enough now that he's among them, as he enters the sitting room with the other children he sees his mother biting her lip in worry. He wants to tell her it's okay and that he'll be fine, but there's not enough time.

He's surprised by his own nervousness, as he waits longer and longer. “Aleksander Oretsev.” He jumps up too quickly and something inside him lurches. Dutifully he follows the red and black kefta of the examiner's assistant.

His nervousness makes the test a bit of a blur, but the result remains crystalline in his mind.

Mother is waiting for him still chewing on her lip and she sits when she sees him, as if she can't stand the possibilities. He smiles to try and comfort her as he goes to stand in front of her, and instead of waiting for her to ask he concentrates as hard as he can; the nearby shadows at least flicker at his influence.

Her eyes widen when she sees. Then she shocks him by bursting into tears and pulling him tight against her. “I'm so, so sorry Aleksander. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . .”

Not understanding he opens his mouth, he's  _happy_ so why is she so sad?, then closes it at her next words.

“I had to do it, you know I did. Please, please forgive me.” He's smart enough to realize she's not really talking to him.

Gingerly he wraps his own arms around her, she and papa didn't really talk about their lives before they came to live here and he wonders if this is some part of that past. “I, I forgive you.” He bites back on 'mama'. Burying his face her shirt to hide the beginnings of his own tears, he'll be leaving for Os Alta tomorrow with the rest of the confirmed children and he doesn't know when he'll see her again, he says his last word to her. “Goodbye.”

\---

That night his mother surprises him by crawling into his bed, clutching him tightly to her as she sleeps, as if that is enough to keep him here with her. But he does not want his world to remain Keramzin and the tiny village next to it. So in the morning he will free himself and leave.


End file.
